The Table Poem by David Harris

This table is reserved an invitation for two,
only one sits alone and the other chair is bare.
He waits and waits as the hours creep through.
Stares at the empty space and wonders where are you.
He looks at his watch as another hour ticks by,
looks at the door to see who is coming through.
He feels eyes staring, probably wondering whom
he is waiting for as the minutes turn to hours.
The empty chair remains bare
as outside the sun sets as night begins to call.
This table is reserved for two, but where are you?
He thinks of all the reasons why you could be late
for this most important date.
He has rehearsed his lines of what he purposed to say.
The box with the ring within his pocket stays.
Where are you he wonders, do you love him anymore?
The negative thoughts invaded his mind
as he waits looking at the door, just waiting for you.
Finally the waiter comes along and tells him they are about to close.
He gives one last look at the door, then gets up and goes.
The reserved table for two stands empty and bare.
Those who should have sat there are gone never to return,
and as the light go out the table stands alone and forlorn.

24 September 2008